The Lake of the Sky eBook

I certainly think I can conjecture with accuracy the
way it received its name. The trails in and out
were first made and used by the wild animals—­bear,
deer, antelope, mountain lions, etc., then by
the first Americans—­the Indians, and at
last, by the white man. Undoubtedly the first
whites to come over the trails were miners from the
Georgetown and Placerville districts, lured by the
marvelous discoveries of the Comstock lode in Virginia
City. Then in 1862-3 came the Squaw Valley stampede
and this “strike” being so much nearer
than the Comstock naturally attracted much attention,
especially as the California mines of the Sierra Nevada
were becoming less profitable. One of these old
miners, whose language was more luridly picturesque
than refined, on coming into the region or going out
of it,—­when he struck the rough, rugged,
uncertain, rocky, and exceedingly steep grade, must
have called it a “hell of a hole” to get
into or out of, and in future references the name
stuck until, at last, it was passed down to future
ages on the maps of the U.S. Geological Survey
as the true and correct name.

[Illustration: Angora Lake, near Lake Tahoe,
Calif.]

[Illustration: GLENBROOK ON THE NEVADA SIDE OF
LAKE TAHOE]

[Illustration: THE STEAMER TAHOE, AT THE
WHARF, JUST BEFORE STARTING AROUND THE LAKE]

But if the reader thinks the name in the slightest
degree characteristic of the place itself he never
made a greater blunder. Instead, it is a paradise
of delightful surprises. A large, fairly level
area—­hundreds of acres at least—­through
which runs the clear and pellucid waters of the Rubicon
River on their way to join those of the American,
and dotted all over with giant cedars, pines, firs
and live oaks, with tiny secluded meadows, lush with
richest grasses, it is a place to lure the city-dweller
for a long and profitable vacation. Whether he
hunts, fishes, botanizes, geologizes or merely loafs
and invites his soul, it is equally fascinating, and
he is a wise man who breaks loose from “Society”—­spelled
with either a capital or small letter—­the
bank, the office, the counting-house, the store, the
warehouse, the mill, or the factory, and, with a genial
companion or two, buries himself away from the outer
world in this restful, peaceful, and God-blessed solitude.

When I first saw it I exclaimed: “Hell
Hole? Then give me more of it,” and instead
of hastening on to other places of well-known charm,
I insisted upon one day at least of complete rest to
allow its perfection to “seep in” and
become a part of my intimate inner life of remembrance.